#late night beatles posting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heartepub · 14 days ago

Text

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask.

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread.

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash.

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.”

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.”

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red.

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless.

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke.

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom.

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you.

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightley finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind.

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you.

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you.

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment.

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt fanfiction #.dive site

448 notes · View notes

nesepte · 15 days ago

Text

Hundred Steps | Jaehyun

Pairing: Jaehyun x fem! reader

Genre: soft jaehyun, fluff (he is cute in this), very mild angst, unsaid words, cozy, vinyl record store, music(al), rich jaehyun, but very humble jaehyun, acts of service love language jaehyun, small town, small shop owner, shop assistant jaehyun, first kiss, first crush, coming of age (?), senior jaehyun. Word Count: 6.5k words

A/n: Happy Jaehyun day, my loves! Here is the full fic. This is probably the sweetest fanfic I have ever written. Hope you find it so too! xD

Taglist: @yewshi @kanekisheart @cigsaftersuh

The air was warm against your cheek. The summer had ended but the heat lingered like a stubborn heart refusing to see reason. In front of you beyond the wrought iron gates, stretched the steps to your new life but you stood frozen in place.

Mind can be so fickle, and this restless heart even more so. You had waited your entire life to leave your hometown and move to the city. You had dreamed of this college every night and here it was, ready to welcome you.

But you turned your gaze behind— the city quiet from this height. Beyond the mountains in the distance, amidst the swirling roads that led to nowhere, your eyes searched for him.

Jaehyun…

It was two weeks after your high school graduation. You were working late in your father’s store for vinyl records. Just a few minutes before closing time you heard the ding of the tiny bell fixed atop the door. He stumbled in, trying to frantically shut his umbrella which was dripping onto the carpeted floor. His brown pants were soaked at the bottom and his white shirt was wrinkled at the joints.

‘That’s alright,’ you said and he looked up. Despite the umbrella, his hair was slightly damp and the tip of his nose was red. ‘We are closing soon,’ you told him. ‘If you want to browse, I suggest you come back tomorrow morning.’

His curious eyes darted from you to the aisle behind him. ‘Where is...?’

‘Are you looking for my dad?’ you asked, trying to keep your tone professional. ‘He fractured his leg. I’ll be taking care of the shop in his absence.’

He finally managed to close his umbrella and left it by the window.

‘Right,’ he said, walking into the glow of the dim lamp hanging from the ceiling above the counter. This close, you noticed that his cheeks were red too but it wasn’t particularly cold out that night.

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ he said, ‘but by any chance did he mention any Beatles record on hold?’

‘The Beatles…’ you mumbled to yourself and ducked behind the counter to check the cabinets. At the very top, wrapped neatly in a clear film was the record and stuck to it was a post-it that had the word paid written in block letters and a name beside it.

‘Jung…’ you whispered, rising back to your feet to find the light, ‘…Jaehyun.’

It took you a moment to place the name in your head, and when you did, you blurted out, ‘It’s you!’ You looked up at him. ‘You are Jung Jaehyun?!’

Your raised voice had startled him but he replied as even as before, pressing his lips together. ‘That’s correct,’ he said.

‘Get out,’ you gritted out.

‘W-What?’

His blank, ignorant eyes angered you even more.

‘Do you have any idea what you put my father through?’ you yelled, your voice echoing through the empty shop. ‘You have been making these insane demands for those godforsaken rare records ever since you stepped foot into our store!’

You could feel your face heating up, your heart pulsating inside your throat. It was a bad look— shouting at a customer, but you could not stop the words from flowing out.

‘Do you know how difficult it is for my father to find them?! It’s because of you that he had an accident and fractured his leg. He was out in the rain to get your stupid record!’

‘I…’ He stared at you, mouth agape and his face drained of colour. He had shrunk under your gaze somehow. ‘I… I had no idea.’

‘Of course, you didn’t!’ you spat back, the thin record shaking between your trembling fingers. ‘All you rich kids care about is your own convenience!’

‘That’s a harsh judgement to make,’ he returned, though not unkindly.

‘Harsh?’ You let out a mirthless laugh. You could not believe your own anger. The bulb over the counter flickered like a dull firework as the record player in the corner switched to the next song.

‘I’ll tell you what’s harsh. All his life, my father has worked tirelessly in this shop to raise me alone and I have done nothing but kept my nose buried in books so I could get into the best university in Seoul.’

You sighed, pressing your palm to your forehead to control the wretched tears that were pricking the corner of your eyes.

‘This was my last summer before college. My last chance to taste freedom and it’s ruined because of you! I am stuck in this shop, working all day. The boxes are heavy, the shelves are high. I don’t know any of the customers and all they really do is ask about my dad. I haven’t even eaten all day but I can’t complain to anyone without looking like an ungrateful brat!’

There was more you wanted to say but you had no breath left in you. Besides, you had embarrassed yourself enough and you couldn’t risk crying in front of him.

‘Just take this and leave.’ You held out the record to him.

His hand reached out immediately but stopped just centimetres from the edge.

‘Take it,’ you repeated, hiding the hitch in your voice. You did not rush his hesitation— there was no other customer in the shop waiting anyway. At last, when he closed his fingers over the record, you let the rest of your anger flow out of you with it.

‘What?’ you asked. He was still standing at the counter, staring at you. Maybe you had been too harsh but your anger didn’t allow any sympathy.

‘I can pay the hospital bill,’ he mumbled, clutching the record tightly in his hands.

‘There is no need,’ you replied. You could not let your pride take another hit after making a complete fool out of yourself in front of a complete stranger. ‘Just… don’t come back here again.’

You regretted saying it the moment the words left your lips.

When you had first learned of Jaehyun through your father, you had imagined a stoic, old man in his 50s, dressed in an unnecessarily expensive suit with a cigar in his hand and a flashy gold chain around his neck. He definitely seemed the kind with his incessant demands for particularly hard-to-find, expensive records. He liked nothing in the shop.

Pretentious bastard, you had called him.

But standing in front of you was a boy, who didn’t look much older than you. He was careful with the record while stowing it away in his bag, holding it delicately by the edges. Despite your outburst, there was a twinkle in his eyes, one that you recognized all too well— your father had it too whenever he got his hands on a new record.

In the wake of your receding anger, you saw clearly how frightened you had made him but he did not protest again. Without another word, he left, stopping only for a moment at the door but he did not speak whatever it was he wanted to say.

However, that was not the end. He came back— sooner than you had expected.

The next morning was busier than usual. You had to receive a new consignment and the truck that came with the boxes did as little as unload them right on the street in front of the store.

The sun was already up and you were sweating through your shirt by the time you had dragged the third carton inside amidst the sea of cursing passersby tripping over them.

Jaehyun found you sitting on the pavement, exhausted and on the verge of tears again. You had your head between your palms and was about to keel over from your own weight when he tapped you on your shoulder.

You looked up at him, squinting at his silhouette against the sun.

‘Didn’t I tell you not to come back here?’ you said, unable to keep the sharpness out of your tone.

He nodded, his expression unchanged. His eyes raked over the mess you had made on the street behind you.

‘What?’ This time you actually felt the tears fall out of your eyes but he didn’t startle. Instead, he sat down beside you.

‘What are you doing—’

He reached into his bag and produced a sandwich from it. It was homemade, you could tell. He peeled the wrapper back and offered it to you.

‘You haven’t eaten, have you?’ he said.

It was your turn to stare at him, wide-eyed. ‘I— don’t understand…’

‘I made you a sandwich.’

He had it so simply as if that was the most natural thing in the world. He had that air about him. You had mistaken it for confidence but Jaehyun was never too proud. He was just… him. You were dumbstruck and humbled at the same time. There were tears in your eyes again but you weren’t crying anymore.

You scoffed instead, amused. There were people still around you, cussing while stumbling through the maze of boxes; the sun was still shining— brighter and hotter; the drains smelled foul from last night’s rain and here was this boy, sitting on a hot pavement beside you with a godforsaken sandwich in his hand because you had told him last night that you hadn’t eaten anything all day. But the most absurd thing of all was when you actually took it from his hand and ate it, right there on the street.

He waited patiently beside you, not saying a word. He only had one sandwich too— you realized it after finishing it. He asked for the wrapper and shoved it in his bag, then got up and offered you his hand.

‘Let me help you,’ he said.

‘With the boxes?’ you asked.

‘In the shop,’ he replied.

His unwavering gaze was steady on you and he inhaled before speaking. ‘I can be your shop assistant. You do not have to pay me,’ he added before you could protest.

‘You want to work here?’

He nodded his head, his eager eyes searching your face for an answer you weren’t quite sure of yourself yet. For a moment, you saw it— behind the façade of his coolness— his guilt. You did not want to be pitied but he seemed more earnest than arrogant.

‘Do you not have a job?’ you asked.

‘I am in college.’

‘No summer internship?’ You could not help the derision that seeped into your words. And he picked up on it too but he did not budge.

‘It’s only my second year.’

‘I can’t pay you,’ you said in a final attempt to dissuade him.

‘I didn’t ask for money,’ he replied in the same breath.

‘Right… the shop opens at 10 and closes at 9 but you have to report an hour early to help me clean it. Will that be alright?’

‘Yes,’ he replied.

You could not tell your father about him. Jaehyun was a stranger and the shop never had any assistants before. But you needed the help, and he was willing even if it was for his own atonement.

‘So, am I hired?’ he asked.

Sighing, you took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

‘Get those cartons inside,’ you ordered your new assistant walking inside the store.

His reply came after a pause. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

That is how Jaehyun came to work at your store.

Every morning, he was there waiting in front of the shop before you arrived. His satchel over his shoulder and a homemade sandwich in his hand that he gave to you. He listened to what you said without question. When you told him to vacuum the floor, he did. On the mornings you told him to wipe the windows clean, he did. He steered clear of the records. Perhaps he was afraid he would break them. But he did not help you with dusting nor with arranging the shelves.

He was rich, you had realized that much but, in the shop, he acted no more than an errand boy. From carrying the boxes to special deliveries— he did them all.

During lunchtime, you took turns to eat in the backroom while the other manned the counter. In the evenings, he got you coffee from across the street and offered to tally the register while you rested.

You did not speak much, nor did you learn anything about each other that was not necessary, not until that night—

It was past 9 pm. You had closed the shop. Jaehyun was folding the cartons in the backroom and you were shelving the scattered records back in their places. You were almost done too, save for one record that was supposed to go on the top shelf of the closet in the back. You jumped up from your toes to fling it into the thin gap but not even its edge made it on to the shelf.

It's useless, you sighed to yourself after another failed attempt But just as you turned around to reach for the ladder, you bumped into his chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ he quickly straightened but did not move away. His eyes landed on the record in your hand then up at the open shelf.

‘Let me,’ he said and waited.

When you nodded, his fingers closed over the edge. He pulled it from your grip but kept standing in place. You stood there with him, confused.

‘Uh…’ The tip of his nose turned red. Perhaps the A/C was too cold, you thought at first but it was when he leaned forward that you realized why he was waiting.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you cursed inward, holding your breath as you shrunk under him against the shelves. The blush on his face creeped up your cheeks, your breath drained out of you as he pressed further.

But Jaehyun braced himself against the edge and swiftly placed the record back onto the shelf, not even letting the hem of his shirt touch you. You had never realized how much taller he was than you, but then again, you had never bothered to look before.

You were looking then, up at him and back at his face when he found his footing again. He had an earphone in his right ear. You could hear the faint music leaking out of it in the sudden silence that had enveloped you both.

‘What are you listening to?’ you asked, surprised at the strangeness of your own voice.

He took the earphone out and held it out in front of you. ‘Want to listen?’

You nodded but he walked down the aisle and out of sight. Several seconds later, you heard the soft crinkling of a plastic film and the distinct sound of a record being pulled out of its case. You waited as he dropped the pin over it and the song reached you.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Unexpectedly, he found you on the floor again as the notes of the first chorus filled the empty shop. He sat beside you, just as naturally as he had done the first time.

When the record player cracked to a halt, he turned to you. He did not speak, not out loud at least, but you could make out his words. So, when the next night came, you put on a new record in the player— With You by Harrison Storm.

The night after that, he replied and the one after that, you replied to his reply. Every night, after you flipped the sign in the window to closed, you both found a song for each other. To his Dandelion you replied with Sofia. For his Laufey, you had Lana Del Rey. For your Hozier, he had Artic Monkeys.

You sat beside each other on the same spot tucked between the shelves, listening to your conversation echo against the walls. It was easy to slip through that crack in time that you had opened and enter that small pocket of dimensionless space, save for the music.

He tapped his foot against the floor when you replied to his Home with Nancy Mulligan and danced on the night you had played Something Just Like This to his question, Mystery of Love.

It was strange how you knew nothing about Jaehyun yet you had never known anybody that intimately before.

But the summer was ending. In a blink of an eye, three months had passed. You had started receiving emails and thick letters from your college about orientation, dorm rooms, classes and credits. And two days ago, you had taken your father to the hospital to get his cast removed. He was going to come back to the store; you were going to leave for college and Jaehyun… you didn’t even know where he was going to go or whether you would see him again.

You fell asleep on the counter that night after closing the shop. It was humid outside and the A/C was on full blast. It was a restless sleep and you must have been shivering because you felt him drape his outer shirt over you. It smelled of him— warm and sweet, and you groaned, suddenly wanting more. You opened your eyes slowly. He was right there, his face in front of you but your gaze did not surprise him.

He reached out and brushed a strand of your hair away from your face. His touch was so light that you thought you were still dreaming, but his warm breath over your lips was evidence enough. His dazed eyes pulled you in and for a brief moment you thought he was going to lean in but when you blinked up from his lips again, he gulped and shook his head.

‘Uh…’ You straightened up too, his shirt falling to the floor behind you. You were sweating beneath your collar, a familiar flush on your face.

‘It’s your turn to pick a song,’ he mumbled. Perhaps he did not know what to say either.

‘R-Right…’

You leafed through the records to find your words. A conversation had ended last night so it was your turn to begin anew. But all you could really think of was Jaehyun… and you, and what if you hadn’t met him like you had. What if you had met him in college. He would have been a senior and you, like every other girl in his class, would have had a crush on him. Then, one day, after gathering all your courage, you would have asked him out. Perhaps he would have said yes, and instead of helping you around the shop, he would have done all those small things for you as your boyfriend.

You found him at your spot on the floor after putting the song on the record player— Those Eyes by New West.

Three minutes and forty seconds. It’s not long, not by any measure, but it was enough for you to tell him what you could not speak that night. You couldn’t recall how long you sat beside him, silently, after the song was over. You didn’t want to leave, not yet.

Then it struck you.

‘Do you want to go on a trip with me?’ you asked, keeping your eagerness at bay.

‘A trip?’

‘It’s just to get a record from the next town. Don’t say it,’ you warned, expecting a taunt about it but it never came. Instead, he smiled his dimpled smile and nodded his head.

‘We’ll have to take the bus,’ you told him, testing his resolve.

‘Alright.’ He nodded his head.

‘We will have to leave at 5 am.’

‘Okay.’

‘You might get bored,’ you told him.

He paused— the dimples on his cheeks deepened. ‘Then let’s get bored together.’

The morning was silent and still blue. You reached the bus stop before Jaehyun, who came a minute after. There was no sleep in his eyes, nor any hint of exhaustion. If anything, he looked as lively as the birds singing in the trees behind you.

‘Did you walk here?’ you asked.

‘It wasn’t that far,’ he replied and you realised you didn’t even know where he lived.

‘What’s that for?’ You pointed at the film camera that was hung around his neck.

‘Oh, this is…’ He looked down at the camera, running a hand through his hair. ‘In case I find something beautiful today.’

You and Jaehyun sat near the end of the bus— him by the aisle and you at the window seat. The ride was short, or so it felt (you fell asleep quickly into it and woke up when the sun was up and your destination was two stops away). If he was bored, he didn’t complain, nor did you feel him stir beside you.

‘Here,’ he said, taking out a wrapped sandwich and a small box of chocolate milk from his bag. ‘Why are you smiling?’

You took the sandwich from his hand and unwrapped it. ‘Why do you bring me a sandwich every day?’ You knew the answer already but you wanted him to say it.

There was a shy smile on his face and he fumbled before speaking. ‘That night…’ he started, ‘you said you hadn’t eaten all day.’

You were grateful that he turned his pointed gaze away from you because you could feel your face heating up. Pressing his lips together, he offered you the carton of milk with both hands.

‘I don’t like chocolate milk,’ you lied and pushed the box towards him. ‘Why don’t you finish this?’

He sighed, looking disappointed but took the box nonetheless.

In the soft light of the morning sun, even the town’s chaos seemed peaceful. Amidst the sudden swarm of running children, Jaehyun pulled you close by the elbow— you were about to bump into a child, who was scampering to find his way around your legs.

‘Do you know where to go?’ he asked.

‘Hm?’ It was hard to focus when he was that close to you.

‘The way to the shop…’ he repeated.

‘Right,’ you said, pulling away to conceal the beat of your thumping heart. ‘Straight down this road and right at the intersection.’

‘Alright then,’ he said, cheerily, ‘lead the way.’

The shops were only just waking up, delivery trucks lining the streets. In the distance, you could hear the ocean, calm that morning except for the occasional thrash of the waves which marked its presence.

‘Where do you live?’ you blurted out without thinking. The question must have caught him off-guard too. He jerked his head in your direction, pausing for a bit before answering.

‘My parents’ home is in our town,’ he said. ‘But I go to college in Seoul.’

‘Oh, which one?’ you asked. ‘My university is also in Seoul.’

‘I know,’ he replied but did not answer your question.

You could see the ocean in the distance now, merging into the sky beyond the intersection. The cars looked as if floating on water as they sped off in either direction.

‘I am sorry,’ you said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘For shouting at you that night.’

‘It’s alright.’ He shrugged. ‘If someone was making my father work that much, I would have been angry too.’

That was Jaehyun— easy and uncomplicated. He had managed to put your mind at ease so simply that he made you question your own apology. You nodded, not sure whether grateful or humbled but whatever it was, you knew it was real, the feeling anchoring itself inside your heart.

When you reached the store, he stayed outside. The store owner had already laid the record out for you. It was a rare 12-inch record wrapped in a gatefold sleeve. You replayed your father’s instructions in your head as you picked it up for inspection. You held it up to the sun for signs of scratches or scruffs along the fine grooves. There were none. The label was authentic and so were the markings at the back.

You lowered the record and your gaze fell on Jaehyun, standing outside the store window. He had his hand on his camera and his eyes on you. The sun must have been burning his back— he was standing so still but he did not move.

You jerked your chin up in question but he shook his head and turned away. You had seen that look before on him before, several times in the last three months. It was either in those early hours of morning when he would report to work or later during the slow evenings just before closing time. You had never questioned it. It wasn’t your place. But you had realized as much that it was always when he was staring at you.

‘Did you get it?’ Jaehyun asked once you were outside.

‘Hm,’ you replied, tapping your bag and sighed, ‘We still have the afternoon to kill before the evening bus.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘There is a lighthouse here,’ you said. ‘Do you want to go see it?’

‘Yes,’ he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

You retraced your steps back to the intersection and turned left this time, towards the sea and to the lighthouse that stood down the stony promenade. It was painted in striking red with a set of staircases leading up to the cabin at the top. The sea behind it was a stark blue in contrast, endlessly spilling over the horizon.

You sat on the edge of the walkway, your feet dangling over the breakwater rocks below you. You leaned back on your palms and breathed a sigh. The clouds overhead had overshadowed the sun and the salty wind had turned cold.

‘What are you doing?’ you asked.

Jaehyun had torn a page from a notebook in his backpack and was folding it up into a shape.

‘Making a boat,’ he replied with a child-like giggle.

‘A boat?’ You laughed. ‘For the ocean?’

‘Mhm.’ He had his eyes set on the paper he had laid out beside him. ‘See?’ he chimed up, holding the paper boat up to your face. ‘But the question is whether it will reach the ocean or not.’

The rocks were blocking the water and the aim had to be perfect. You got up with him, taking a step back to witness what you could already tell would be a failed venture. He angled the front of the boat towards the water like a plane and shot it like a dart towards it only for it to land right in front of your feet.

‘Here, let me try,’ you said and picked it up. You held it from the bottom and aimed it further away. It flew a few inches but landed in a small crevice between the boulders below.

‘Jaehyun!’ You shrieked.

Jaehyun had practically flung himself down the pavement to the slippery rocks, his hands still holding onto the edge.

‘Careful…’

‘I am fine,’ he shouted back above the sound of the waves just a few metres away from him.

‘Just throw the boat from there,’ you shouted back as you saw him scrambling back up to you with the boat still in his hand.

‘What’s the fun in that?’

‘You are insane, you know that?’

He smiled and shrugged.

The boat was crumpled beyond hope. With a quiet sigh, Jaehyun tore another page and made a longer, sleeker shape this time only to fail again. You tried different angles, shapes, even places. At one point, Jaehyun even took a running start and hurled the boat forward, but it always fell short of the shoreline, sometimes by mere inches.

By afternoon, a few children returning from school had joined your futile pursuit. While you kept folding new boats, you could hear Jaehyun behind you— scolding them in an attempt to keep them away from the edge.

At last, exhausted, you both plopped down.

‘Should we just give up?’ you asked. The wind wasn’t in your favour and the clouds were shifting again. You saw his shoulders slump further with a sigh as his gaze fell over the pile of the failed paper boats.

‘You look disappointed,’ you remarked.

You wanted to laugh and perhaps you did too because his dejected frown quickly twisted into an offended scowl. Why was he so disappointed over a silly boat. That boy really was mad. And, maybe you were too, because before you even realized it, you were grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

‘Come on, get up,’ you said, picking out the very first boat he had made from the pile. ‘We are going to get your damn boat into the water.’

The paper had dried hard but it was not torn. If it landed correctly, it could still float. You straightened out its crumpled edges, making the perfect cone at the top to balance its weight and took the position at the edge.

‘Careful.’ He tightened his grip on your hand.

‘I’m fine,’ you told him. ‘Just hold on tightly me.’

He braced his foot against yours as you leaned forward with his support. His fingers stiffened and his other hand grasped your elbow tightly but he gave you enough room to safely incline yourself over the rocks.

‘A little more.’

It took him a second to loosen his hold to let you lean further over the edge. You were focused on the angle, your eyes fixed on the pattern of the crashing waves. You counted the seconds in between. One more. You had to wait for just one more.

‘Now,’ you said. Jaehyun let go of your hand. You shot the boat towards the receding tide in the fraction of a second before he yanked you back into his arms.

This time the ocean accepted it, pulling the little devil inwards with its current.

‘It’s in the water,’ he said.

You had expected more of a celebration after the hours you both had spent on it. But perhaps the feel of his pounding heart beneath your palm was evidence enough of his triumph and the smile on his face was your reward.

‘It’s in the water,’ you echoed, amused at your own joy.

The evening bus was right on schedule and you barely made it back to the stop in time. The sun was setting in the distance. It was time to go back. You glanced back, as if hoping you could catch a final glimpse of the boat that you’d set afloat in the ocean together but it was gone.

The bus was packed yet quieter somehow. Jaehyun pulled a juice box from his bag for you and as you sipped on the bitter taste of farewell, your eyes swelled with tears. This really was the end— the last night of the dream that the summer had pulled you into.

Tomorrow, Jaehyun would be gone.

And so, you held on, as tightly as you could. You closed your eyes and let the setting sun lull you into one final sleep. He was still there, and you weren’t going to let tomorrow ruin that.

‘It is your turn to pick the song tonight,’ you turned to him.

His dazed eyes focused on yours then took out the earphones from his bag and gave one of them to you. It took him a while to find the song on his phone.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Why did he choose that song? It was the very first you had both listened to together. Perhaps that was his closure.

It was still early when you reached your town but the bus stop was empty save for the passengers who got down with you. Jaehyun had offered to walk you back to your house but you had refused.

You pointed to the camera around his neck. ‘You didn’t take any pictures today.’

He remained silent, but you could see his mind working behind his eyes. He was perfectly still but he seemed restless somehow and you couldn’t tell why the same impatience was seeping into you as well.

‘Didn’t find anything beautiful to click?’ You tried to break the tension his silence had caused. The street lamp above you flickered for a brief moment before settling down.

‘I did,’ he said at last, his voice not above a whisper but his smile had returned— the shy one. In the same breath, he raised the camera to his eyes and snapped a picture of you.

You are not sure how long you stood there, arrested in place by the flash but you were sure of one thing then— you had to ask him the question that had been poking at you since last night.

‘Will I see you again?’

His relaxed smile irked you. Why was he so calm?

Silently, he unhooked the chain that he wore around his neck. You had seen it before but as he pulled it away, you saw a pendant hanging at the end. It was a small silver record complete with its grooves.

He took your hand and placed it in your palm, closing your fingers over it. He leaned in close, as if whispering a secret to you.

‘On the day you climb a hundred steps, close your eyes, hold out this pendant in front of you and say my name. That’s when you’ll see me again.’

You looked up at him, confused, but he had already let go of your hand.

‘Promise me, you will remember this,’ he said. He was pulling away but his eager eyes were waiting for your answer. ‘Promise me.’

‘I will,’ you managed before he left.

That was two weeks ago and the last time you saw Jaehyun.

Nothing had moved around you— the wrought iron gates still stood; the people still walked by. The air was still warm and the college was still waiting.

Pulling the strap of your bag up your shoulder, you dragged your gaze back to your new life. One step after the other, you walked till you reached the base of a steep climb.

This entrance was reserved for freshmen. For a moment you wondered whether it was some sort of a prank set up by the seniors because in front of you was a seemingly endless set of steps stretching to a top you couldn’t even see from where you stood.

Just then, a boy next to you groaned. ‘Why are there a hundred steps here?’

You heard a breathy laugh next. ‘Funny you say this. It’s exactly a hundred steps here.’

A hundred steps…

You had started climbing the steps alongside them, your ears perked up at their conversation.

‘What do you mean?’ the first one asked.

‘It’s tradition,’ the other one replied, catching up to him. ‘Freshmen are supposed to climb a hundred steps on their first day of college for good luck.’

‘What did you just say?’ You suddenly turned to them, making them jump up.

The two boys exchanged a confused glance before looking back at you.

‘I am sorry,’ you quickly added, seeing their startled expression. ‘The steps…’

The shorter one nodded his head. ‘Yes, it’s a freshmen tradition—’

‘No,’ you cut him off. ‘Are there exactly hundred steps on this staircase?’

‘Y-Yes,’ he stammered.

Jaehyun’s words rushed to the front of your mind— on the day you climb a hundred steps…

It was the strangest thing that he had said that night. You had turned his words over in your head a thousand times, wondering if you had misheard him or missed something between the lines.

But here they were, quite literally, a hundred steps in front of you.

Heart hammering inside your chest, you quickly counted the steps you had already climbed— 24— before turning around and breaking into a run. You could feel the pendant burn inside your pocket as you rushed up the stairs, two at a time.

Your legs burned with the strain it took to push yourself up the incline, each step more demanding than the last.

This is ridiculous, you thought. This isn’t a fairytale. How would he even know about this.

But the rising questions melted away in the face of what was pulling you up.

Your breaths turned into short gasps, making your pounding heart thud against your ears, drowning out everything else. Your lungs ached for air, but you did not stop. If he was really waiting at the top, you didn’t want him to wait for too long.

One after the other, you kept going, slower when you couldn’t anymore, but not stopping until the top finally came into view.

Still panting, you reached for the pendant in your pocket, your other hand pressing against the stitch in your stomach. The silver record dangled from the chain as you held it out in front of you, the tiny grooves reflecting the sunlight.

You closed your eyes, and whispered his name like a prayer— it felt like magic anyway.

‘Jaehyun.’

The leaves above you rustled in the soft wind that had caught you. The birds were chirping too. There was a dull chatter somewhere in the distance and the soft curses of the students asking you to move. But you could not bring yourself to open your eyes yet.

God, this is so stupid. You were sure you looked deranged to others. The possibility crossed your mind too. What if he had meant his words to be something else. What if you had not paid close attention to what he had said. Ugh. Why couldn’t he have just said what he wanted to?!

But then you heard it— him.

‘What took you so long?’

You smiled first, then opened your eyes. He was standing right before you, his dimples etched on his cheeks. His hand closed over yours, pulling the pendant to himself, and you with it.

‘I am sorry, I am late,’ you said.

There he was, your senior in college, the dream within your grasp. Just like every other girl in his class must have, you had a crush on him too.

‘Do you…’ The words caught in your throat. The fantasy was easier than reality. But you had not just climbed a hundred steps to shy away.

‘What is it?’

Gathering all the courage in your heart, you asked, ‘Do you want to get a cup of coffee?’

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling like they did the first time you had seen him. His smile grew wider barely leaving space for the dimples on his cheeks. He wrapped his arm around your waist, hesitantly at first then bolder when you followed his lead. The tip of his nose had turned red but his bashful gaze remained fixed on you. He held your face in his hands and pressed his lips over yours ever so sweetly like he had been waiting to do so for an eternity.

‘I would love to,’ he whispered and kissed you again.

The End.

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun nct #nct 127

276 notes · View notes

bonesandthebees · 2 months ago

Note

Help I'm so out of the loop, what did Dream do this time? Who was the Mangoball person? How is Connor related to any of this??

ok. ok. there is so much to explain so I'll start with the easy stuff.

after so many years, mangoball revealed themself on a post by icarus aka apollos-boyfriend. they are now a beatles fan.

god bless

okay now. sigh. dream.

you're not going to believe me but this is a condensed version.

but recently a clip surfaced from the shut up I'm talking podcast of tommy talking about how much he disliked meeting mizkif. mizkif wasn't thrilled about this. xqc called tommy cringe for it, tommy made a post making fun of xqc calling him cringe for wearing a trump shirt during the stream he did where he met trump, xqc shot back by tweeting one of tommy's standup clips and making fun of him for having an audience of mostly teenage girls. then, despite not being mentioned or involved in the conversation in any way, dream qrted xqc's tweet making fun of tommy with a meme outright calling all tommyinnit fans the r slur.

dream ended up deleting the tweet but only after a few hours or something so everyone had already seen it. he tried to defend himself on twitter, claiming that because he's autistic he's allowed to use it. this all happened very late at night in the US so the british streamers were asleep. dream also made a reddit post trying to defend himself, insulting tommy and co. and saying tommy had no backbone. next day, tubbo had a stream outright talking about how much he dislikes dream and defending tommy, while also acknowledging his own bias towards his friends.

that night, once again when the rest of the british ccs had gone to sleep, dream did a very late night stream that was basically him crashing out for 3 straight hours. he went over very cherry-picked parts of tubbo's VOD, 'explaining' himself and talking about how tommy was always such a terrible cruel friend to him (when tommy was, like, 17 mind you. he covered so many things I literally cannot remember them all but he shared private dms he's had with multiple ccs and also outright said someone shared skephalo porn art in the dsmp discord when tommy and tubbo were 16 but it was fine because the teens 'asked to be treated like adults' (??????????)

today tubbo streamed again, watching dream's stream and responding and acknowledging his own slip ups/mistakes he made while also calling dream out for a lot of the bs he said. he was also supposed to have a call on stream with dream to talk it out, but then during tubbo's stream tommy uploaded an absolutely scathing 5 minute video talking about how terrible dream has been over the years, and dream cancelled the scheduled call he had with tubbo. like if you want to watch anything from this entire mess, watch tommy's video. if you want a more full view of things, watch tubbo's VOD from today.

then quackity streamed today and everyone expected him to say something because dream also brought him up for some reason?? during his stream??? and shared private dms they had?????? but quackity is still winning the idgaf war. he just promoed some new stuff he's doing and then went "there was something else I was going to talk about but I forgot what it was. oh well, later guys!"

look this is. again. kind of condensed. the last two days have felt like ten years.

meanwhile connor has been having gold tier commentary on the whole mess on twitter, unsurprisingly.

#ask #anon #dream situation

156 notes · View notes

tavolgisvist · 2 months ago

Text

With A Little Help From My Friends

Monday, Sept. 14, 1964: Ringo was first off the plane. He emerged from the darkened doorway of the chartered Lockheed Electra around 4:40 p.m. and stepped into the bright sun, which highlighted his sad eyes, rakish sideburns and, of course, that glorious nose. Even from a distance, he was instantly recognizable. The world’s most famous drummer. The shrieking, which had begun long before the plane stopped, reached new heights. Thousands of teenage girls held back by the Greater Pittsburgh Airport’s snow fences squealed, screamed, shoved closed fists into their mouths, grabbed handfuls of their own hair, wept, and generally fell into fits of hysteria. Behind the crowd, a blond boy of about 12 shimmied up a light pole to see the spectacle: The four young men known throughout the civilized world as the Beatles - John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr - were invading his hometown. Ringo started down the stairway to the tarmac. Behind him stepped John, cool in sunglasses and a flashy blue-and-white polka-dot shirt. Then George and finally Paul, who paused at the top of the stairs to point at something. Ringo kept moving, five steps down, the other Beatles following close behind. Then something came flying through the air. Something red and the size of a fist. Ringo moved instinctively. He ducked, covered his head with his left arm and, less than a second later, sprang back upright as if nothing had happened.

He never paused in his descent, or changed his expression. He simply continued down and then calmly waded into a crowd of reporters, photographers, police officers and guys in work shirts and hard hats. A reporter named Al McDowell from KDKA-TV approached Ringo. “What’s that stuff they were throwing?” McDowell asked. “Looked like a tomato, to me,” Ringo responded, pronouncing it toe-mah-toe in his thick Liverpool accent. “It’s always the same, you got a couple of lunatics in a couple of thousand … .”

(The Beatles in the 'Burgh, 1964, Steve Mellon for Pittsburgh Post-Gazette)

The song 'With A Little Help From My Friends' was written specifically for me, but they had one line that I wouldn't sing. It was: 'What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and throw tomatoes at me?' I said, 'There's not a chance in hell am I going to sing rhis line,' because we still had lots of really deep memories of the kids throwing jelly beans and toys on stage; and I thought that if we ever did get out there again, I was not going to be bombarded with tomatoes.

(Ringo Starr, The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

Poking a little fun at Ringo was actually a lof of fun. ‘What would you do if I sang out of tune?’

(Paul McCartney, The Lyric, 2021)

Actually, John and I wrote this song within a vocal range that would cause no problems for Ringo, who had a style of singing different to ours. We tailored it especially for him…

(Paul McCartney, The Lyric, 2021)

…There was an unusually late start for that night’s session because the Beatles had spent the afternoon and early evening overseeing preparations for the upcoming album cover photo shoot. <…> Despite the late hour, all four Beatles were wide awake, excited by the events of the day; I remember them animatedly discussing the set that Peter Blake had built for them and talking about how much they loved their satin Pepper costumes. After hurriedly consumed cups of tea, we finally got to work. The backing track for the new song—initially called “Bad Finger Boogie” for some reason—had a real spark to it, and an inspired Ringo was really smacking his tom-toms… Ten takes were required to get a “keeper”; it was nearly dawn by that time. Richard and I watched an exhausted Ringo begin to trudge up the stairs. That was our signal, as usual, that the session was over, and we began to relax. He was at the halfway point when we heard Paul’s voice call out. “Where are you going, Ring?” he said. Ringo looked surprised. “Home, to bed.” “Nah, let’s do the vocal now.” Ringo looked to the others for support. “But I’m knackered,” he protested. To his dismay, both John and George Harrison were taking Paul’s side. “No, come on back here and do some singing for us,” John said with a grin. <…> Fortunately for all of us, Ringo got his lead vocal done relatively quickly: perhaps the shock tactic of having him sing when he was least expecting it took the nervousness away, or perhaps it was just how supportive everyone was being. All three of his compatriots gathered around him, inches behind the microphone, silently conducting and cheering him on as he gamely tackled his vocal duties. It was a touching show of unity among the four Beatles. The only problem was the song’s last high note, which Ringo had a bit of trouble hitting spot-on. For a while he lobbied to have the tape slowed down just for that one drop-in, and we tried it, but even though it allowed him to sing on pitch, it didn’t match tonally to the rest of the vocal—he sounded a bit silly, almost like one of the Goons. “No, Ring, you’ve got to do it properly,” Paul finally concluded. “It’s okay; just put your mind to it. You can do it,” George Harrison said encouragingly. Even John added some helpful—if decidedly nontechnical—advice: “Just throw yer head back and let ’er rip!” It took a few tries, but Ringo finally hit the note—and held it—without too much wavering. Amid the cheers of his bandmates and a Scotch-and Coke toast, the session finally ended.

(Geoff Emerick, Here There and Everywhere, 2007)

#with a little help from my friends #the songs we were singing #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #tomatoes #geoff emerick #anthology #interview: ringo #interview: paul #john and paul

67 notes · View notes

sunflowersinthedirt · 10 months ago

Text

DATING PAUL MCCARTNEY 1960/1964 🎸

First post here! Gifs aren’t mine. I’m sorry if it has any typo, english is not my first language.

• Paul would be the perfect boyfriend in his own way, a true English gentleman.

• He opens the door, pulls out chairs... You never pay for the bill.

• Paul loves to spoil you with gifts.

• Paul used to write songs about you but he was too shy to show them to you.

• He would loooove teach you how to play the guitar and piano, and if you sing, he would ask you to sing for him to hear.

• Paul is an uninhibited man and knows about the reputation he has as the "cute Beatle," but around you, he would become shy at first.

• Still, Paul can't keep his hands off you.

• He likes to walk holding your hand, steal kisses from you to see you blush, Paul likes to touch you all the time.

• Long conversations late at night in the company of his guitar, tea, cigarettes, and Martha.

• You adopted Martha together, and Paul would proudly say that you were Martha's mother.

• Paul loves rainy days and at every opportunity would drag you to bed to sleep with him to the sound of raindrops falling on the roof.

• You would travel the world with Paul if you wanted to go on tour with him.

• Even when you couldn't go with Paul, he would send you letters every day - no matter what country he was in. Letters and postcards, until you had to have more than one box to keep them.

• Paul would give you gifts related to him so that you wouldn't forget him when he was far away.

• Paul wasn't jealous of you with the boys, and you were the first to break the rule that women couldn't be in the studio.

• The boys adored you and would make jokes about how Paul only talked about you and how many songs he had already written and played for them dedicated to you.

#paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #paul mccartney smut #paul mccartney fanfic #the beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles smut #smut #fluff #angst #60s #headcanon #paul mccartney headcanons #the beatles headcanons

266 notes · View notes

crepesuzette2023 · 2 months ago

Text

Before Secret Santa '24 makes us all happy with new fiction and art: A far-from-complete list of Beatles (mostly mclennon) Christmas fics

...roughly in chronological order, from earliest days to modern AU's

• And to you a happy chrimbo (@fingersfallingupwards). John and Paul’s first Christmas together…short and sweet and very them.

• Silent Night (Hidden Track) (@savageandwise)…strangeness after their first kiss, solved by presents and a near drainpipe collision.

• Boxing Day 1958 (@beatlessideblog). I Need You Darlin’ extra (omegaverse). Paul and John’s first Christmas together after they bonded, and they try it “the other way around.”

• Christmas lights (keep shinin’ on) (distinguishd_like). John spends Christmas 1958 with the McCartney family—and they end up confessing their love in a way only they could.

• Hot Cocoa (@toovirgins). Mistletoe romance in the McCartneys' kitchen. Sorry about your favorite cup, Jim.

• Mike Storms the Bastille (@m1ssunderstanding). John and Paul escape to Paris and stay there; Mike and George visit them for Christmas in the winter of 1961. Yes, Lennon/McCartney, but: Mike & George works *so* well.

• There snowbound together (@backbenttulips): 1961. Paul visits John and at Mendips, and they keep each other warm by the fireside. A soul-nourishing story, and they’re 150% in character.

• Mistletoe (thinkpink20): A classic for a reason. Paul watches John kiss Cynthia, and gets an idea. The two of them against a wall‚ what more does this world need, really?

• The Spirit’s Up (@swinginglondon42): It starts in Hamburg: Ringo plays Father Christmas for Paul…a tradition is born. TW: drum stick defilement.

• The Present (@ohjohnnysblog). Hamburg. The first Christmas without Stu. Paul comforts John. The late-night banter in bed is so lovely, and the ending is hot…!

• I’ll Be Home for Christmas (@savageandwise). 1963 Christmas Show. Paul and John miss each other, and finally admit to it.

• So, I’m offering this simple phrase (frogchorus). John and Paul escape from fame and being Beatles on a walk through the snow.

• Let your heart be light (@backbenttulips). John spends Christmas 1967 at Paul’s place, and all is right with the world.

• Blue Christmas (@theoldmixer). Brian lives AU! 1968. It’s Christmas, and there is tension between John and Paul. Still. Again. Their manager intervenes.

Post-1980 (John lives AU)

• Leads Me to Your Door (@bluewater9). 1989. Paul had a difficult year, but John finds him at Christmas. Sad in places, but so beautiful and comforting in the end! All-time favorite. <3

• Just Like the Ones We Used to Know (@econhomework). Paul and John are married with children…but this is just them, early in the morning. In bed. With lovely memories of their young love tied-in.

• This Year’s for Me and You (@skylikeaflame). 1998. Paul and John both loved others, but now their life-long love finally has its turn—with their children’s blessing. Beautiful poetic masterpiece.

Modern AU

• Talk santa to me (@backbenttulips). John volunteers as Santa at Macy’s. His ex, Paul, appears unexpectedly, and seats his pert bottom on his lap.

• Can You Still Love Me Tomorrow (ImagineBeatles). John is secretly in love with his best friend, Paul, and yet he agrees to be his pretend boyfriend for Christmas. Together they face Paul’s dad’s “piercing looks of disapproval.”

• I wish I had met you when your heart was safe to hold (goingmywaydoll). High Fidelity AU: record shop owner John asks his exes what went wrong between him and the one who got away—Paul.

#fic recs #Holiday fic recs #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #a solitary instance of #pringo

108 notes · View notes

lick-me-lennon22 · 8 months ago

Text

Beatles X ADHD!Reader Headcanons

(Hello, everyone!! I apologize for the short hiatus, I've been going through a lot following my 21st birthday as well as some family/work troubles. I also want to give a happy, happy 84th birthday full of peace and love to the one and only Richard Starkey!!! ☮️💞☮️💞☮️💞 As always, please let me know if anything in this post comes across as offensive or insensitive, and take what resonates with you :) I'm glad to be back and hope you all enjoy this post!!)

John

John is intrigued by your unique perspective and view of the world

He admires your creativity and often finds inspiration in your spontaneous ideas

He encourages you to channel your energy into your passions - whether it's music, art, or any other creative pursuit

John understands that you may struggle with focus at times and offers gentle reminders or helps you create strategies to stay organized

He'll support you through restless nights by staying up and chatting with you, plagued by his own insomnia, and helps you get your energy out

He also understands that you may thrive in an environment that may seem chaotic to others, but embraces the unpredictability and encourages you to express yourself freely without fear of judgement

John greatly values your honesty and openness about your challenges

He shares his own vulnerabilities and struggles with you, creating a bond built on mutual understanding and support

He enjoys engaging in deep conversations with you, exploring different topics and learning from your point of view

You two often have late-night chats that range from philosophical discussions to whimsical flights of fancy

He appreciates your ability to jump from topic to topic, finding it refreshing and inspiring

John absolutely loves to collaborate with you on creative projects, whether it's writing songs together or brainstorming ideas for new ventures

Your spontaneous and unique ideas often lead to innovative and unexpected song lyrics or artistic projects

During times when you feel overwhelmed or distracted, John offers a supportive presence

Whether it's through gentle reminders, offering reassurance, or simply listening as you ramble about your latest hyperfixation, he provides unwavering comfort and understanding

Paul

Paul is naturally a very supportive and nurturing partner

He is exceptionally patient and understanding during times when you become distracted or overwhelmed

He also thrives on creating structure and routine, which helps you manage your symptoms effectively

He'll collaborate with you to create adaptive routines and to-do lists that accommodate you, designing schedules that provide flexibility while ensuring important tasks are completed without stress

Paul helps you channel your creative energy into organized projects

He enjoys planning songwriting sessions or artistic endeavors that allow you to streamline your enthusiasm and ideas

Paul listens attentively when you ramble and infodump about your hyperfixations

His optimism and positivity uplift you, helping you feel more confident and capable in managing your ADHD

He always makes it a point to celebrate your achievements, big and small, recognizing the effort and determination it takes to accomplish tasks despite your ADHD-related challenges

Paul is very attuned to your emotional needs, offering comfort and support during moments of frustration or overwhelm

During periods of self-doubt, Paul makes sure to emphasize his belief in your abilities and resilience

He will also take the liberty of decluttering your work and living spaces, as well as locating items you may have misplaced, wanting to keep you from experiencing additional stress

He will often pick up your medication for you (if applicable), and always reminds you to take your meds

Paul helps you set clear goals and prioritize your tasks

He suggests therapies and coping mechanisms, helping you to make informed decisions to improve your daily life

George

George appreciates your spontaneity and creativity, and feels it aligns well with his laid-back personality

He encourages you to explore different hobbies and interests, recognizing your potential to excel in various creative endeavors

He values your insight and often seeks your perspective on music, philosophy, and art

George appreciates your ability to share your experiences openly with him, even when your thoughts are racing or your emotions are intense

You bond over using music as a form of therapy, playing acoustic guitars together or listening to soothing melodies that help calm your mind and enhance your focus

George enjoys spending quiet moments with you - whether it's meditating, enjoying nature, or simply existing and decompressing together

He loves to escape with you to peaceful, natural settings where you can both unwind, connect with one another, and find inspiration in the beauty of your surroundings

He provides a calming presence for you, helping you feel grounded and supported in moments of overwhelm or distraction

George notices small details about your behavior and mood, which helps him recognize when you need gentle reminders or space to recharge

He always respects your need for personal space and quiet moments

George, of course, introduces you to and walks you through mindfulness practices and meditation techniques that help you center yourself and manage your ADHD symptoms more effectively

He supports you in setting boundaries and encourages you to prioritize self-care

George shares his passion for health and wellbeing with you, encouraging activities like yoga, journaling, and nutritious cooking, which promote physical and mental balance

Ringo

Ringo embraces your spontaneity, finding joy and solace in your playful and creative nature

He values your unique talents and perspectives, always taking genuine interest in your hyperfixations

Ringo encourages you to express yourself freely and to always embrace your quirks and unique strengths

His humor and warmth create a positive atmosphere where you feel accepted and cherished for who you are

His lighthearted approach helps alleviate day-to-day stress and pressure

Ringo finds great pleasure in making you laugh, and appreciates your own playful sense of humor and view of things

Ringo is naturally flexible and adaptable, which helps him to navigate your changing moods and interests with ease

He recognizes that your ADHD may lead to shifts in your interests or priorities and remains supportive and understanding in these moments

Ringo enjoys planning outings and activities that cater to your interests, making sure you're both engaged and having fun

He savors moments of comfortable silence and parallel play with you, where you can simply be together without constant need for stimulation or conversation

He deeply appreciates the peace and connection found in these quiet moments

Ringo creates a safe space for you to express yourself creatively however you see fit - whether it be through doodling, writing, or other forms of artistic expression

Empathy is a huge aspect of his support, as he also struggles with ADHD symptoms and navigates his challenges alongside yours

He provides a comforting and understanding presence during times where you feel frustrated or overstimulated

Ringo offers a calming and positive demeanor, as well as unconditional support, reassuring you that you are not alone in managing your ADHD

140 notes · View notes

menlove · 1 month ago

Note

random beatles lore i need an answer on. what’s the deal with paul proposing to multiple people before getting married to linda ? i thought he was just with jane up until linda like was he just desperate to have a spouse in that era or what

oh goooood question. we don't know exactly why he did all that bc he's never talked about it but i'll give u some details & my own two Potential Reasons

he proposed to three people Seriously: jane, maggie mcgivern, & linda. he also "jokingly" proposed to cyn and a female reporter? (or something along those lines i can't find the exact thing rn, if anyone has that one. i know i reblogged it at some point). cyn, he jokingly proposed to after john left her- brought her a single rose and said "how about it, cyn?"

but maggie and linda.... he wasn't with jane the entire way up to getting with linda. officially, anyway, bc if there's one thing paul loves to do it's cheat. one of the women he was having an affair with was maggie mcgivern. they had a 3 year long affair starting in '66. paul & jane broke up in july of '68 and in september, paul took maggie on a surprise trip to sardinia, where...

“We were lying on the beach just being young and in love. Paul turned to me, smiling, and out of the blue he just said: ‘Have you ever thought about getting married?’. I said, ‘yes, I suppose, one day…’ and I thought nothing more of it. Looking back, it was obviously the wrong answer. When I said one day I I meant in six months, maybe, but not never. But Paul was always slightly insecure and probably saw me as such a free spirit that he thought I was never going to settle down… I suppose I assumed that we would end up together but at the time I was just enjoying it all. In the ‘Sixties there was just so much going on that I didn’t have time to sit and think about the future. I suppose that, with the pressures of fame, Paul was craving security.”

maggie mcgivern, 1997 (x)

now, with linda... they started their affair a bit Before him and jane broke up. like i said, they broke up in july. but paul & linda had a "dirty weekend" in late june when he flew to nyc & then la. here's a longer post about all of that. so by the time he was proposing to maggie, he'd already had an affair with linda.

iiiinterestingly, he called linda & asked her to fly out to london in september (from paul mccartney: a life by peter carlin) and that's when their relationship became serious. so he got rejected by maggie (or he thought he did) and immediately went "ah right, who else could i possibly see myself settling down and having kids with? linda!" he still saw maggie for a while but eventually they stopped going out as he went all in with linda & wound up proposing to and marrying her.

as to Why The Hell Did He Do All That? well i have 2 thoughts on that

for both of them, though, i think it was really kicked into gear by john and yoko's relationship. like whether or not he had romantic feelings for john, i think he saw just how serious john was about yoko in comparison to cyn. and ringo & george were also married. when he talks about john & yoko, he frequently talks about it as the end of their bachelor days even though john wasn't a bachelor lmfao. but i think it kicked his ass into going oh shit i need to settle down and marry a woman too.

my Two Thoughts: a) the one i personally believe bc i think that man is queer as the day is long. but i think he realized that he needed to settle down and have that heterosexual lifestyle. he was the last unmarried beatle. there's this fun lil homophobic comment that reveals SO much about where paul's head was at imo:

-from "apple scruffs come to dinner" by andrew bailey (x)

interestingly, that's also the night they had a huge argument and he went to maggie's house crying (more about that in that source for maggie's quote up there). not sure if this was before or after the 26 year old queer comment, but i'm guessing after.

it's like a pretty Common refrain in history for queerness to be viewed as a sort of childish thing. like it's okay when you're young, not so much when you're older. i think with jane leaving & john getting swallowed up by another all-consuming, co-dependent partnership that Wasn't with paul, he realized he had to "grow up" so to speak. john had Grown Up and away from whatever fucky thing him and paul had going on and bc he always had to mirror john, he had to Grow Up too. which brings me to....

b) the other (boring) option is what follows if he's just your normal cishet dude and his 26 year old queer never to get married comment was Purely just him being a dick (totally possible lmfao, i just Personally think it still says a lot about him even if he didn't mean for it to). but it's still the same sort of motivation- the rest of his bandmates were married, john was moving on, the band was in chaos. he would've wanted to settle down and have children as is the heterosexual Norm and even straight people face pressure to do that in a certain amount of time. i really think the Franticness of it and the quick turn around with linda speaks more to a deeper underlying motivation, like being queer and the guy you're in love with has Grown Up, but it could just be a paul neuroses thing too.

tl;dr: man was juggling a bunch of affairs & decided he had to settle down and have a wife and kids Right That Second. jane dumped him and maggie said no, so he called linda and the rest is history. whether it's bc he was queer and panicking as he realized he was too old to be queer (my personal thought) or bc he was a straight man still under the societal pressure to have a wife and kid, we'll Never Know.

52 notes · View notes

denimshortsdean · 1 year ago

Text

TAG GAME!!:

Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up.

I was tagged by the darling @e-mio ! Decided to shuffle my Daylist (classic anthem late friday night in case you were wondering)

Changes - David Bowie

Day Tripper - The Beatles

Keep Yourself Alive - Queen

Brown Sugar - The Rolling Stones

Bad Medicine - Bon Jovi

absolutely no pressure to do this but I'm tagging @nostalgicbones @forkinthegarbagedisposal @letterlimerence @electric-loser @deansotherotherphone @passiveagressivepoet and @thesurprisinglyqueertoast!

#it's ya boi rach #tag games #rb games #music #gpoy #sam im sorry this is so late!

204 notes · View notes

should-know-better · 2 months ago

Text

A conversation through Instagram?

This post 'And if you're thinking of ME, I'm probably thinking of YOU, made by @thetruthisfictional made me think - WHY did Alex decide to point at the Mirrorball / Miles representation on that day?

So delved a bit further. A huge thank you to @nicoscheer for keeping such accurate records of Miles' stories and posts. It made this so much easier. (Also, this is all just my wild theory and I have no proper proof as usual.)

Friday 22/09/2023 Who knows what started this all off, but on this day, Miles posts two stories:

The lyrics for "Seen The Light" include: "Well what you do is up to you, / I'll take my hat and push on through," (full lyrics in link)

"Infa Riot" lyrics include: "time to take control again and be the only one." "It's not too late to free your mind" "cos I don't think any-one cares." (full lyrics in link) This could be interpreted as either Miles saying that he's going to be who he wants to be, OR if it's a message to Alex, it's suggesting that he stands up for himself.

So what happens?

Saturday 23/09/2023 Arctic Monkeys are at the Pacific Colosseum in Vancouver and debut, "HELLO YOU.” I know that AM could have been pre-planned that they were doing this track tonight but to me, the timing?? Idk it just feels so coincidental.

It's as though Alex is answering with that final hopeful verse, about in the future he'll go back to being that person he was aged 17 (the meaning behind, "Hello You," discussed here.)

To try to keep this short(ish) I'll quickly say that Miles posts more stories where he's having a a nice Saturday night in with Maxie, then out for Sunday lunch with his Mum. The music accompanying these are all from The Beatles, (which ties in with his Mum being there) but he could have chosen any songs, and these all tie in with the ‘conversation’. They can all be seen as having a double meaning (1) as an accompanying to the story and (b) a message to Alex. Check out the lyrics from each track:

Roll Over Beethoven - (esp verse 6 and "the jukebox blows a fuse" - there's a post referring to Alex as a jukebox here!)

This Boy

Do You Want To Know A Secret?

Monday 25/09/2023 Amongst the breezy 'up and at em' post that Miles makes, and, the feeling lazy Jim Royle stories, there's two more tracks.

The lyrics from "Good at Breaking Hearts," lyrics could have been written about the Milex LA split, they are so apt. However, the main theme behind, "Chunky," is to keep the party going and carry on as long as you can.

Again, if these are just random songs that Miles likes, then it's very spooky, because the next thing that happens is...

Tuesday 26/09/2023

https://www.tumblr.com/standingnexttome2012/772210477873938432

During Body Paint, Alex points at the Mirrorball and sings, "if you're thinking of me, I'm probably thinking of you."

I'm not sure if this is the only time he does this, but in many of the clips I've watched, he doesn't. So, once again, why on this date? Another coincidence? Am I just fitting song lyrics to a narrative? When you look closely, there seems to be something going on.

#also adding that in Dublin Alex mentions Miles before Bodypaint #my main point is the timing of hello you and mirrorball pointing #instagram conversation theories #my crazy theories #sorry another long post #miles kane #alex turner #tlsp #milex #mk insta

39 notes · View notes

copperboom82 · 3 months ago

Text

Something

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 3.9k

Prompt: "Just please don't say you love me." - Gabrielle Alpin

Title credit: Something by The Beatles

Summary: A late-night conversation forces Katrina and Dean to deal with the things they've left unspoken for years.

AN: Hello! This is my first submission for @jacklesversebingo and my first story for this OC. It's just a one-shot for now, but I have some other ideas for this pairing, so we'll see. I think this falls into angst/fluff territory

Warnings: Mild cursing, mentions of alcohol. Please let me know if I missed something - I don't think I did, but I'm also very new to posting my writing.

****************************

Katrina Black had never been a good sleeper.

She’d never considered herself to be a true insomniac… but it was close. Falling asleep, regardless of how tired she may or may not be, was always an ordeal. Whether it was normal life stress, adrenaline from a hunt, a combination of the two, it didn’t matter: turning her brain off was, without fail, a herculean task. Then staying asleep? Forget it. Growing up the way she had, the instinct to keep one eye and ear open at all times was impossible to shut down. Every noise seemed to register and set her on edge, big and small, and God forbid there be any light. That was the fastest way to jolt her out of a dead sleep.

It had been that way as long as Katrina could remember, and by now, in her early thirties, she was quite used to it. Instead of dreading the nighttime, she’d even come to appreciate the solace of it. It was quiet when the rest of the world was sleeping, and peaceful in a way that was hard to recreate in other circumstances.

What she wasn’t used to was having company. But as of late, company was what she had.

“Can’t sleep again, huh,” she remarked quietly as she slipped out onto the back porch, two steaming mugs carefully cradled in her hands as she gently shut the door with her foot. Dean’s head swiveled in her direction, his green eyes finding her in the low lighting, a tired smile making its way onto his face… a humorless chuckle slipping past his lips.

“Not so much.”

In the weeks since Dean had gotten back from Purgatory, there’d hardly been a night that Katrina hadn’t run into the elder Winchester brother in the hours she’d gotten so used to spending on her own. He’d even gone so far as to co-opt her spot – not that she suspected he realized that when he’d started coming out here.

Katrina wordlessly settled into the porch swing next to him, shivering against the chilling air and passing one of the mugs to Dean. He accepted it, but looked between her and the mug, his expression growing skeptical when he realized what it was.

“Hot chocolate, Kat? Really? I’m not five.”

Kat.

That stupid nickname made butterflies swarm her stomach like she was a damn teenager again. No one else called her Kat, only Dean. To everyone else she was Trina, or Katrina. It had started as his way to annoy her, in those early days when Bobby had introduced them, and they hadn’t been able to go ten minutes without bickering about something. Then somewhere along the lines when neither of them had been paying attention they’d become friends, and he didn’t try to annoy her anymore, but the nickname had stuck.

And her fondness for the moniker had grown with the idiot hunter that used it.

“I know,” she scoffed, a wry smile forming on her own face as she went to take a sip from the mug still in her hands. “That’s why I put vodka in it. And maybe some Bailey’s.”

His skepticism turned to amusement, and Katrina watched from the corner of her eye as he made a face that said what the hell before following her example and drinking.

“Not bad,” he admitted as he lowered the mug.

“You should know better than to doubt me by now, Winchester,” she quipped, and Dean rolled his eyes, though they both knew he was only being dramatic.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Black,” he griped back, though the fondness in his voice was unmistakable. Silence fell over them as they both settled further into the swing, and Katrina took another sip of the hot chocolate, savoring the warmth that spread through her body as she swallowed it down.

It should have been comfortable, and in many ways it was. She’d known the Winchesters for years now – hunting with them often, researching for them when she couldn’t, housing them when they weren’t off doing their own thing… the three of them, barring Dean’s year in Purgatory, had been practically inseparable since the Leviathans had burned Bobby’s house down. Sam and Dean were her closest friends. Her family.

But with Dean, it was never comfortable. She was too stupidly hyperaware of his presence for anything involving being around that man to be comfortable. The heat of his body, the way the smell of gunpowder and leather always seemed to cling to him, the aggravating truth in that his solid presence made her feel safe in a way nothing else did.

No, being around Dean never failed to put her on high alert. And he was a goddamn distraction to boot. No matter how much Katrina tried to keep her mind on the night sky and quiet her thoughts so she could make another attempt at sleep, her eyes kept darting to her left. She didn’t often see Dean out of his normal jeans and flannel combo, except for these late-night stargazing sessions. Tonight he was clad in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that should have been illegal for the way it showed off his arms and the broad lines of his shoulders. His green eyes gleamed in the moonlight, hair adorably mused from whatever futile attempt he had made at sleep, and the stubble littering his face made her mouth water in a completely inappropriate way.

Inappropriate because Dean was her best friend, and best friends didn’t have the kind of thoughts about each other that she was having right now. Thoughts that the year apart had apparently done nothing to quell. Which shouldn’t have been surprising. It had done nothing to dampen her not-so-friend-like feelings for him either.

To say nothing of the fact that with the kind of lives they led, there was no room for that sort of thing. She didn’t believe that loving a Winchester was the death sentence that Sam and Dean had both, at times, claimed it to be. But she knew enough to know that loving a hunter was always a risk, always invited complication… and all of their lives were complicated enough.

“How’s that shoulder doin’?” he asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence and completely oblivious to the turmoil in Katrina’s head or the fire his gravelly voice, rough from lack of sleep, lit inside her.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, unconsciously rolling the shoulder in question. Earlier in the day, the two of them and Sam had taken care of a vengeful spirit an hour or two south of her house. It had been a simple enough salt-and-burn, but the thing had lashed out like a cornered animal in the last few minutes they were digging, doing what it could to stop them from reaching their goal. In the mele, Katrina had gotten flung at one point and crashed into a nearby headstone hard. She’d been mostly fine, but of course, Dean had immediately clocked the way she was suddenly favoring her left side.

And now, hours later, he seemed as equally unconvinced of her dismissal as he’d been then if the way he was studying her was anything to go off of. His brow furrowed in concentration, and the intensity in his gaze left Katrina trying not to squirm.

“Really, Dean, it was –“

But for all the good her words did her she may as well have saved her breath. Dean, it seemed, wasn’t even listening. He was too busy setting his half-drunk mug of hot chocolate on the little table next to him and then reaching out for her. His touch was gentle but firm as he maneuvered her to lean forward so he could run his hand over the tender area. Katrina willed her breathing to stay steady, even as her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute.

“Well nothing’s swollen,” he murmured, the concern still evident in his voice. Katrina rolled her eyes and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, because I’m fine.”

Dean paused in his movements and caught her eye, sending her a look that was both exasperated and affectionate.

“And stubborn,” he pointed out. Katrina snorted.

“Pot, meet kettle.”

Dean sighed but let her go.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, eyes still glued to her form. They both stayed there, frozen in place for a moment, until he frowned. “You look cold.”

She was perhaps a little cold, but Katrina suspected what Dean was actually noticing was the tension that came from the nerves being in such close proximity to him created. She shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

This time Dean rolled his eyes, and before she could do anything, he was wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him, enveloping her in his warmth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeated, “I know. You’re always fine. C’mon, Kat. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, if the heat rising in her cheeks was any indicator. But Dean couldn’t know that.

“My hero,” she muttered, injecting as much sarcasm into her voice as she could manage, and Dean chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“At least I’m someone’s,” he scoffed, that self-deprecating tone of his bringing a frown to Katrina’s face.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised, and Dean snorted.

“Do what? Be honest?”

“Put yourself down like that,” she corrected firmly and Dean sighed. Despite herself, she found her body relaxing into his more fully.

“You weren’t there, Kat. I’m no hero.”

She didn’t need to ask to know he was thinking of Purgatory. He’d been tight-lipped about the details, but whatever happened had left him rattled.

“You wanna talk about it?” she ventured softly. Dean stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed back into her as he exhaled, shaking his head as he did.

“No.”

It was the answer she expected, and Katrina nodded against his chest.

“You know I’m here though? If you do?”

There was no pause that time. Dean nodded.

“I know.”

And then he dropped a kiss to the top of her head that had her stomach doing somersaults as if it were the most natural in the world for him to do.

The silence settled over them again, and Katrina tried not to hyper fixate. Dean’s fingers started tracing circles on her arm, sending pleasant shivers down her spine, and the sounds of the night washed over them – crickets, she thought, somewhere in the distance, and the occasional howl of an animal.

Eventually, against all odds, it was the steady thrum of Dean’s heartbeat that started to lull Katrina back into a state of… not sleep, but rest, she supposed. Her senses dulling and her consciousness allowing her to enjoy the peace of the moment. But it was just that – a moment – and before long Dean was speaking again, his words breaking it apart and filling her chest with a strange mix of hope and fear.

“I missed you, you know. While I was… gone. I, uh… it’s nice. Having you around again.”

He doesn’t mean what you want him to mean, the voice in her head hissed at her. Friends miss each other. Don’t make more out of it than what it is.

But somewhere, Katrina knew it was more than that. Dean didn’t just say shit like that. Still, letting herself ruminate on it too much was risky.

“I missed you too,” she admitted. There was a beat of silence, and then the words were slipping out before she could stop them – quiet, but impossible to miss in the stillness of their surroundings. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

She caught herself as much as Dean by surprise, so much so that she hardly noticed when he moved, shifting them so that, while his arm was still around her, she was no longer leaning into him, and they were instead facing each other. His eyes were wide, betraying how much she’d caught him off guard with the admission, and Katrina felt as though she were being x-rayed the way he was searching her face. She found herself unwittingly holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout, or worse, the teasing.

But instead, his features softened, and a small smile formed on his face. The kind he seemed to reserve only for her.

“C’mon, Kat,” he murmured, his free hand coming up to brush some stray hair out of her face. But instead of dropping back to his own lap, it stayed, cradling her face. “I always find my way back to you, don’t I?”

In what seemed to be a single breath, the air between them turned charged. On their face, the words themselves were innocent. The way he was looking at her, however, was anything but, and his tone carried a weight with it that the words alone didn’t.

They’d been here before. In this space of almost and on the verge… but one of them always pulled back. Katrina wasn’t totally sure of Dean’s reasons, though she had a list she could guess at. Her own were complicated and multi-faceted. Chief among them was a strong disbelief that whatever Dean did feel for her couldn’t possibly mirror the feelings she’d been harboring for him. And if it were only her own heart she was risking? It might not have worried her so much – she could deal with pain. But the idea of opening herself up, giving things a shot and having them crash and burn… she knew what would come next, and the idea of having to cut ties with him and Sam was unfathomable. Aside from her younger sister, they were the only real family she had left. And Jenna, as wonderful as she was, didn’t understand the life Katrina led. It had been one of the many things Katrina had worked so hard to shield her from.

This time, however, neither of them seemed ready to heed that invisible line. Katrina noticed the way Dean’s eyes flickered down to her lips, and she unconsciously wet them while her own heart beat impossibly faster. At first, neither of them moved. And then all at once Dean leaned down and captured her lips with his in a kiss that nearly made her heart stop.

Despite the fact that it was something she’d wanted for years, it took her brain a few seconds to catch up with the reality of what was happening, and Katrina found herself frozen. But then, just as Dean seemed to be thinking he’d made a mistake, beginning to pull back, she jolted back to life. All of her normal reservations about why this was such a bad idea flew out the window, forgotten in the heat of the moment, and she kissed him back with fervor.

Her own mug of hot chocolate was quickly deposited next to her on the bench, her hands eagerly seeking out Dean instead. The arm he’d had around her shoulders dropped lower, securing itself around her waist and pulling her closer. Hi tongue dipped past the seam of her lips, tasting and learning her all at once and letting her do the same, while her fingers found purchase on the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Katrina wasn’t sure how long they kissed – it could have been seconds or it could have been minutes – but by the time they broke apart they were both slightly breathless. They stayed close, Dean pressing one last soft, chaste kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers, while Katrina sat there, her head spinning. For awhile it was still just the two of them that she was aware of – Dean’s warm breath against her skin, every point of contact, her own heartbeat so loud she could feel it in her ears, the taste of him still lingering… the spiked drink she’d made them mixed with something uniquely Dean she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

But then reality slowly began to intrude as the rest of her senses returned to her. All the reasons she normally held herself back started screaming at her, and the panic began to set in.

“What was that?” she asked carefully, taking care to keep her voice steady. Dean, still cradling her face in his hand, smirked slightly.

“A kiss, Kat. I believe you’re familiar with the concept based on what I’ve seen from you before.”

It was such a Dean thing to say. And under other circumstances she might have laughed, or come up with her own quip back, but she was still having trouble with rational thought.

“We don’t kiss,” she pointed out. Dean shrugged, his thumb swiping over her cheek.

“Yeah, well maybe we should change that.”

Before she could think of anything remotely reasonable to say, he was kissing her again. And for just a moment, Katrina let herself get swept up in him once more. But this time when he went to deepen it, Katrina pulled back, the panic overwhelming the more pleasant sensations Dean had sparked.

“Dean, I –“ she started, her voice catching in her throat, embarrassingly choked by emotion.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, the teasing tone from before switching to one of genuine concern, and Katrina swallowed hard, willing herself to get her shit under control. This wasn’t her, she didn’t get emotional over guys, or anything, really… but then, Dean had always had a way of making her break even her own rules.

“I can’t do this,” she managed to get out, ignoring the confusion mixing with the concern in his expression. “It’s a bad idea. I can’t… I can’t just be a way for you to blow off steam. That’s not gonna work for me, and…” she trailed off, only dimly registering the look of abject horror on Dean’s face.

“Kat,” he said slowly, his voice gentle but tinged clearly with pain. “Is that really what you think is goin’ on here? That I’m just trying to blow off steam?”

Katrina closed her eyes, focusing on taking a breath. Somewhere in the back of her mind she half wished that when she opened them again it all would have been some sort of fever dream. But, of course, it wasn’t, and when she opened them again Dean was there waiting.

“Isn’t it?”

His face fell and he pulled back, his frown deepening while Katrina found herself already missing the proximity.

“Hell no. Look, I know I’m not Mr. Touchy Feely here, but I really thought we were on the same page about this.”

This was dangerous territory. Territory that Katrina both wanted to and dreaded entering.

Because Dean was… not right, but not wrong either. There was something between them, something more than friendship, evident alone from how different their relationship was from the one she had with Sam if nothing else. But whatever that something more was, Katrina couldn’t be foolish enough to let herself believe that Dean felt the same way about her. She loved him, she knew that. And sure maybe his feelings weren’t strictly platonic… but he didn’t love her. Not like that.

And if even if he did? Dean Winchester didn’t do relationships. She’d been there for the aftermath of Lisa and Ben… watched him struggle through the wreckage… and she knew better than anyone that he’d sworn off the idea of ever letting himself get involved like that again.

“I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled, and Dean looked at her in slight disbelief.

“You can say whether I’m wrong or not.”

Katrina opened her mouth to do just that, but the words wouldn’t come. She tried a second and a third time too, and after that last attempt a smug expression worked its way onto Dean’s face, some of the tension easing from his body.

“So I’m not wrong,” he theorized. “You want to be with me too.”

“Except you don’t do relationships,” Katrina pointed out quickly, “and I’m not looking to get my heart broken.”

Dean softened, the corners of his lips tugging down again, and Katrina could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Why don’t you let me worry about what I do and do not do?”

“Are you actually suggesting what I think you are right now?”

“Depends,” Dean asked, some of that devil-may-care attitude of his making an appearance again. “What do you think I’m suggesting?”

Katrina wasn’t having any of it, though. Mind still reeling, she huffed and moved further back from him, turning to grab for her mug.

“I swear,” she started to complain without really knowing where she was going with it. “God forbid you be serious for just one –“

Dean’s hand shot out almost immediately, cutting her off mid-sentence as he pulled her right back where she’d been, his arm coming around her even more securely than before. He kissed her again, this time slow and purposefully, breaking away while her brain was still going fuzzy.

“I am being serious, Kat,” he said. “Look, I get it, you’re scared, and people in our line of work don’t get happy endings. But c’mon. It’s been here, whatever this thing is between us, for too long, and I’m tired of pretending it isn’t. You said you were afraid you weren’t gonna see me again? Hell, I was too. And I was more afraid that I’d never get a chance to figure this out. I want to be with you, and not just for a night or for while it feels good. This is what I want… I’m ready to fight for it.”

“Dean –“ she began, but he cut her off, shaking his head.

“And, say what you want, but as long as you’ve known me, I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me. So if I’m telling you how I feel, you should know I mean it.”

By the time he was done speaking, Katrina’s eyes were uncharacteristically watery, and she quickly blinked back the tears, refusing to let them spill over. Dean noticed anyway, and frowned, cradling her face once more and smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

“What are you thinking, Kat?” he prompted gently, and she let out something that was somewhere between a cry and a laugh.

“I’m thinking this is insane,” she admitted, which pulled a crooked smile from Dean and her own watery chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” he allowed. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.” She let out a puff of air, and he sighed. “C’mon, Kat. I lo –“

“No,” she cut across him firmly, and Dean blinked back in surprise.

“No? No what?”

Katrina bit her lip, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her again, and she looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eye.

“Just please don’t say you love me.”

Her words hung there between them, until Dean tilted her chin up, forcing her to look back at him. It was impossible to miss the earnest expression on his face.

“But what if I do?” he asked. Brain short circuiting, Kat blinked back stupidly.

“Then you’re crazier than I am,” she finally said, and at her words a genuine smile cracked Dean’s face, his laughter sounding almost inappropriately loud after their conversation colored by whispers and murmurs. It didn’t last long though, and before Katrina could make sense of any of it, Dean was dipping his head again, pressing a short, sweet kiss to her lips and returning his forehead to its previous resting place against hers.

“Sweetheart,” he began, managing to maintain his sincerity despite the laughter still underlying his voice, “I’ve always been crazier than you.”

#jacklesversebingo24 #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x ofc #spn #supernatural fanfiction #annie writes

29 notes · View notes